


Movie Night

by Rintin10



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Also the family needs to know how amazing Héctor is, Author is just really really bad at regular updates, Characters Watching Disney Movies, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Family Bonding, Gen, NOT DISCONTINUED, The Author is not Spanish, The Author tries desperately not to butcher the Spanish language, This is just an excuse for Miguel to find out Héctor is okay post movie, Watching the Movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-26 19:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rintin10/pseuds/Rintin10
Summary: It's not unusual for a family to get together to watch a movie, right? Okay, so maybe half of the people watching the movie are dead, but it's still kinda normal. Oh, and the movie's kinda about you.......okay that part's weird.





	1. Prologue

A sense of vertigo washed through Imelda, causing a phantom churning sensation where her stomach would reside, if she were still alive. She pressed her eyes together with a sharp intake of breath to steady herself, before cautiously roaming her eyes around her surroundings, intent on finding the source of her discomfort.

 

A chill ran up her spine as she realized her surroundings were not familiar. She found herself stiffening in apprehension as her eyes took in the unfamiliar territory she found herself in. This was not the family parlor she had just been lounging in with the rest of her family mere moments before. Sunday’s were always a day of rest in the Rivera household, closing up the workshop for one day a week to spend time with the family (an honored tradition Imelda kept long after her death).

 

A shuffling sound behind her brought Imelda’s attention to the rest of her family. It would seem that whatever brought her here, brought them as well. They seemed to be in a similar state of confusion as their eyes raked over the room they now found themselves in. Imelda’s eyes met Héctor’s from a few feet away, but it did little to comfort her. Her family was together, yes, but they were still in a strange new place that offered no explanation of how they got there.

 

Imelda pressed her mouth into a firm line as her apprehension turned to irritation. Her hand twitched, and she suppressed the urge to wrap it around her shoe. Whoever, _whatever_ , was responsible for taking her family away from their home would pay. Her family had gone through enough these last few months, and she would sooner welcome that _bastardo_ into her home than watch her family be placed in danger once more.

 

A warm hand brushed against her shoulder, in an ill attempt to calm her agitation. She brought her eyes once again to her husband, who seemed to have moved closer to her within the last few moments. Gone was the youthful smile that had taken over his face a few minutes ago as he animatedly entertained the family with joyous tales of his many daring attempts to cross the marigold bridge. Instead his expression mirrored his wife’s, a grim frown that made him look all the many years he was stolen of.

 

Héctor’s hand gave a firm squeeze, his eyes holding the promise that they would figure this out together.

 

“Where are we?” a voice asked, breaking the silence.

 

Socorro may not have been in the Land of the Dead for very long, only having joined her family a few weeks prior, but even she could tell this was not an usual occurrence.

 

“I’m….I’m not sure.” her husband, Julio, murmured, his eyes once again taking in the strange room they found themselves in. It certainly didn’t resemble any of the rooms or offices in the Department of Family Reunions.

 

Imelda’s eyes narrowed instantly. She did not like this. She did not like that she and her family were taken from their home. She did not like not knowing where they were taken, or why. But most certainly she did not like sitting here expecting answers to land graciously at their feet. She let a vicious snarl to escape her lips (or lack thereof).

 

“We need to figure out where we are.” Imelda brushed off Héctor’s hand, stepping forward to face the rest of the Rivera clan. “And more importantly how to get home.”

 

Héctor took a step forward, inspecting the room. It was spacious, but lacked windows to provide them any clues about their location. A good amount of chairs and furniture were scattered throughout the room, not unlike the parlor they had been swept from, however the bare walls made the room feel artificial rather than lived in.

 

“That may be hard,” He said, bringing his fingers to his scratch his chin “I don’t believe there are any doors.”

 

It seemed to be true. None of the walls surrounding them appeared to have any doors. Felipe took a hesitant step towards one closest to him and his brother.

 

“Perhaps they are hidden?” he asked, taking a finger and poking at the wall, as if hoping it would open up into a secret passage.

 

Imelda couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling at her brother’s antics. The idea itself seemed unlikely that a hidden door would magically reveal itself in the room. However, it seemed that other options were severely limited at the moment.

 

A short gust of wind filled the room, startling everyone from their silent musings. With no doors or windows to explain the source of the sudden gust, the Rivera Clan was once again left disoriented and confused.

 

“What’s now??” Imelda found herself asking, feeling her husband’s hands once again upon her to steady her from the new batch of dizziness that plagued her. She batted the hands away, steadying herself. As much as she appreciated the gesture, it was unnecessary. She turned once more to access the situation at hand, and find the cause of the strange wind. Imelda froze.

 

It appeared they were no longer alone.

 

The small group seemed to be in a similar state as the dead had been in when they had first arrived in the strange room. Some even holding their heads to combat the wave of dizziness Imelda knew quite intimately by this point.

 

She felt rather than heard the sharp breath Héctor took in as his eyes zeroed in on one figure in front of the group, stiffening in recognition.

 

Imelda pressed her two lips together and brought her hands to her hips. The new arrivals were not unfamiliar, having known them for many years, but that did not explain why they were here. Her eyes shifted to the figure Héctor hadn’t taken his eyes off of, narrowing in suspicion. She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

 

“Miguel.” The boy in question stiffened at the familiar voice, before turning to Imelda with wide eyes, “What did you do this time?” Imelda asked in exasperation.


	2. Enrique and his terrible, no good, very confusing day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is...is that a skeleton?

 

 

Enrique Rivera was very content with his life. He did what he loved, crafting shoes with his family as his mamá had taught him. He somehow convinced Luisa to marry him, even though he dropped the ring and stuttered throughout the entirety his proposal. He was blessed with two wonderful children, who were happy and healthy. He had everything he could have ever wished for.

 

When he was younger, he never really questioned his family’s ban on music. It never quite bothered him that music wasn’t part of his life, no matter how many odd looks he received on the schoolyard when people found out. He didn’t particularly hate it, like his mamá, or how his great grandmother had, but he understood where they came from. The burning hatred to music seemed to water itself down with each generation, but the understanding that music was just had no part in a Rivera’s life was a constant. Or at least he thought.

 

It wasn’t until a few months prior during the last Día de Muertos that his world took a sharp and unexpected turn.

 

Miguel had always been a curious child. He was the first member of the family to question the ban, instead of accept it as absolute. He was also the first Rivera to be unsatisfied with the answer he received. Enrique wasn’t entirely bothered by the curiosity, if anything he did his best to encourage it, knowing that sometimes acceptance took time, and that Miguel would understand what his family meant on his own.

 

That was until he saw his 12 year old son prancing on the roof of his childhood home with a guitar in his hands.

 

His remembered the cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he watched his child from a few feet below. He couldn’t remember quite what Miguel spoke about, on that roof, his mind entirely preoccupied with flashes of Miguel falling and getting himself hurt.

 

The rest of that night passed a blur, spending every waking moment searching for his son, unable to shake the look of pure devastation on Miguel’s face from his mind. As much as he couldn’t grasp Miguel’s sudden obsession with de la _What’s It’_ s that did not mean he cared any less for his son, nor his wellbeing.

 

Enrique never believed he would ever have a day as emotionally and physically confusing as the morning he found his son, guitar in hand, singing with his abuelita to a song they both seemed to know....but he had been wrong before.

 

There were skeletons. Honest to real live (or not?) skeletons a few feet away from them. They, the skeletons, seemed to be as shocked as they were of their sudden appearance. His mind felt dizzy, and he blinked his eyes rapidly as his brain processed the image in front of him.

 

He batted away the passing thought that they looked familiar from his brain when he noticed their eyes narrowing towards his son, one of them in particular pursing what he supposed counted as their lips, in what seemed to be resignation.

 

“Miguel.”  Her tone was clipped, and Enrique found his body jerking slightly when he noticed his son stiffen. _How did she know his name?_

 

Miguel turned to face the skeleton who has spoken to him, and it took everything in Enrique to keep himself from throwing himself at the group of skeletons and telling everyone to run.

 

“What did you do this time?”

 

Enrique’s arm stuttered to a halt, hovering over Miguel’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him to safety. _What?_

 

Miguel blinked, seemingly frozen. Suddenly eyes, both living and dead, found themselves on the 12 year old, but he appeared not to have heard anything after the creature had spoken his name, his eyes, instead, fitting on the figure right beside her.

 

Miguel’s eyes widened. Enrique heard a wavering intake of breath from the young boy, and noticed a slight tremor take over his body. A strangled sound escaped his son’s lips as his eyes intently focussed on the figure staring silently across the room.

 

Instinctively, Enrique brought his hand back down from its hovering state above Miguel’s shoulder, but his hand met air as his son took a hesitant step forward.

 

Enrique wanted to scream towards his son to stop, but he found his throat uncooperating as his son took another step towards the skeletons.

  


“P….” Miguel’s own throat seemed to be constricting as well, as he choked out another sound. His hand raised slightly as if to reach out across the gap that separated the two groups.

 

“Pa….” the tremor was even more noticeable in his hand as it reached forward, “Papá Héctor?”

 

Miguel’s voice was frail, hesitant and soft. If it weren’t for the overwhelming silence that fitted across the room, it may not have been heard.

 

One of the skeleton’s dipped slightly into a small nod, “ _S-Si Chamaco_.” he murmured, just as quietly, “It’s me.”

 

Before Enrique’s mind could comprehend the scene in front of him, he heard a distressed sound tear out of his son’s throat before the young boy bolted across the room, colliding heavily with the skeleton who had spoken.

 

“ _Papá Héctor!_ ” Miguel cried, curling his arms around tightly around the skeleton’s small frame. The two of them were promptly brought to the ground, neither seeming to care about the rattling bones that popped out of place on impact.

 

Héctor brought his arms around the sobbing boy returning the tight grip eagerly. Boney hands rubbing soothing circles into the fabric of his shirt.

 

“I-I was so worried!” Miguel cried, burying his face into Héctor’s ribcage, “I wasn’t sure if I made it in t-time!!”

 

Enrique watched in bafflement as the skeleton started to pepper the top of his son’s head with soft kisses, taking the time to make soft shushing sounds.

 

“You did great, _mijo_.” Héctor whispered into Miguel’s hair, “I’m fine.”

 

Enrique wasn’t entirely sure how to feel. No father wants to see their child cry, or hurting. Every instinct in him wanted to be the one pulling him close and offering comfort. It was… strange seeing the comfort offered by a virtual stranger… especially one who happened to be dead. But the skeleton’s murmurs and affection seemed to be working as Miguel’s loud sobs slowly ebbed into hiccups, and his shaking calmed, sinking fully into Héctor’s embrace.

 

Soon the skeleton beside the two, Enrique realized she was the one who first talked to Miguel, knelt down taking the time to collect the scattered bones on the ground, content with replacing them in silence. Héctor’s eyes lifted from Miguel in silent thanks, and she returned it with a warm smile.

 

Miguel’s head shifted towards the other skeleton with a quiet sniffle, and she brought a hand to his cheek to wipe away the stray tears, offering him a small smile as well.

 

Enrique cleared his throat, startling the three from their intimate moment. While he was grateful that these two provided his son with some comfort, it still unnerved him a bit. That was his son, and it was quite clear from the body language all of them displayed, they were… familiar with each other in some way, but he needed to know what was going on. Who were they, how did they know his son, and more importantly, how did his son know them?

 

“Sorry to interrupt.” He really wasn’t, ignoring the discomfort in the pit of his stomach. Enrique coughed awkwardly, “But, uh, what exactly is going on?” he asked making a vague gesture with his hands.

 

“Oh, well, I can explain that.” a new voice chimed in.

 

Startled, eyes turned to a new figure standing by one of the walls on the far side of the room. Enrique’s eyes quickly flicked back towards his son briefly, still on the floor. His instincts told him to rush to Miguel, but he was content to see that the Skeleton’s arms around his son tightened subconsciously, eyes narrowing at the newcomer.

 

Imelda straightened up, instinctively shielding both Miguel and Héctor from the stranger, lest they be a threat.

 

“Who are you?” Her voice was dangerously low, stalking towards the figure much akin to Pepita whilst hunting prey.

 

The figure brushed off the question with a gesture, seemingly unintimidated by the figure glowering at them, as if the answer had no importance.

 

“Sorry, sorry. This is my fault. Didn’t mean to startle anyone.” They stepped forward towards the group of living and dead.

 

“So you brought us here.” Coco stated. Those from the Land of the Living froze at her voice, recognizing it, and turned their attention to the skeleton as if they were just seeing her for the first time.

 

Elena’s heart tightened as she recognized her mother, standing tall from across the room. They had been so enraptured by the display between Miguel and the two other skeletons that they had failed to look properly at the others. _B-but that can’t be possible_ . She thought to herself, pain searing tightly in her chest, _She buried her two weeks ago_.

 

“Well, yes.” the figure shrugged, drawing everyone’s attention once more.

 

“Why?” Julio asked beside Coco.

 

The figure blinked and tilted their head, considering their answer, “Well mostly, I wanted Miguel to know Héctor was alright.” They gestured to the pair still on the ground.

 

“Uh….” Héctor coughed, clearly a bit uncomfortable, “Thank...you?” He asked uncertainty, not quite understanding who this person was, or why he and Miguel factored into this whole situation. He slowly gathered up Miguel and brought both of them to a stand, arms not quite relinquishing their hold on the small boy just yet.

 

Imelda seemed unphased, “ _Mostly_?”

 

The figure turned their head back towards Imelda with a smile, “Oh yes,” they said starting to bounce on the heels of their feet excitedly, “I mean it was just too sad that Miguel never got to confirm he saved Héctor after all that, so I thought, why not give them a reunion!”

 

They then began to bounce faster, “But then,” the figure gushed excitedly, “I thought, ‘What if it wasn’t just Miguel and Héctor??’ What if the whole family was here to meet him? I mean he didn’t get to meet them yet!”

 

Imelda stiffened slightly, remembering just why Héctor hadn’t been able to meet his family….

 

“But then,” they stranger continued, oblivious of the discomfort they caused, “I realized the living probably don’t know the whole story, so that may be very confusing for them!”

 

 _This isn’t helping explain things_ …. Enrique thought helplessly as he watched the stranger pace back and forth.

 

“So why not have a movie night!!” They concluded with a triumphant grin.

 

A beat dropped throughout the two groups.

 

“A movie?” Imelda scoffed incredulously.

 

“Mhm!” The figure returned to bouncing excitedly.

 

“You brought us here for a _movie?_ ” Imelda repeated dangerously.

 

“Not just any movie!!” The stranger laughed, throwing their arms out, “Coco!”

 

Coco made a confused sound, “A movie about me?”

 

“Kinda.” The figure smiled. “It’s about what happened on Día de Muertos!”

 

Miguel perked up at the mention, “Wait really?” the figure nodded. “Cool.”

 

“I know! I thought it would be a cool way to get everyone caught up on what happened, so everyone’s on the same page.”

 

Imelda’s expression darkened, folding her arms displeased.

 

“Don’t worry though, after the movie’s done everyone will get to go home. Promise.”

 

“Why don’t you let us go home now?”

 

Miguel pouted, “But mamá Imelda!” he whined, “I wanna see the movie!”

 

“Miguel no.”

 

“Please?”

 

“No.”

 

“Pretty please??”

 

“Miguel….”

 

“Actually.” Enrique’s voice surprised even himself as he spoke, “A-actually, I wouldn’t mind knowing what happened that day.”

 

Imelda’s glare turned to the living man. He flinched slightly at the intense gaze, but held his ground. Something clearly had happened to his son that day, and he was determined to find out. Behind him he heard a few murmurs of agreement from his family…..or rather his living family members, he supposed.

 

“Alright!” Miguel hopped up excitedly. It had been a while since the family when to see a movie. This was gonna be great!!

 

Imelda’s glare didn’t waver. “I said n-”

 

“Oh come on Imelda,” an arm threw itself around her shoulders. Imelda followed the limb to the smiling face of her husband, “It could be fun, no?”

 

Imelda’s eyes narrowed at him, but it only encouraged him to broaden his smile and waggle his browline at her. She let out a huff and rolled her eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a proper response. But knowing his wife well, he barked out a shrill grito in satisfaction, running towards one of the pieces of furniture to claim his spot. Miguel followed behind him just as enthusiastically.

 

“Hey chamaco,”  Héctor laughed, nudging the younger boy as he sat down next to him, “My face is gonna be all over this screen!!” gesturing towards the large screen in front of them “Think you can handle something muy guapo, eh??”  

 

Miguel snickered beside him, as everyone seemed to situate themselves amongst the furniture.

 

Imelda’s eyes glanced up above her with a suffering sigh, before moving towards the others. Just what had she gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The figure isn't important to the story. I specifically left them vague, and didn't want to go into much detail about them. They're mostly a plot device as to why everyone is here. I didn't feel comfortable enough with Spanish traditions or culture to place an official name on them or anything. Feel free to picture yourself or someone of your choosing in the role. They won't show up past this, because I did say I wanted to focus on the family's interactions with one-another.


	3. So Tense You Could Hear a Bone Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a fic about watching a movie, there isn't much watching going on, is there?

  


Despite the soft chuckles and affectionate shoves exchanged between  Héctor and Miguel, the tense atmosphere didn’t dissipate from the room. Both living and dead seemed to eye each other hesitantly, both seemingly at a loss of how to proceed.

  


A thick blanket of apprehension swept through the remaining family members, Miguel and Héctor seemingly oblivious, conversing amongst themselves. While the two were seemingly content with how the last few moments transpired, the rest of the Rivera’s were still clouded in confusion. 

  


It became quite clear to the living members of the room just who the skeleton’s beside them where, finally taking the time to study them properly. That and Miguel’s causal identification of Imelda and Héctor left little question as to who these strangers really were. However, this wasn’t to say that the living were any less confused.

  


Elena in particular was at a loss for words, watching her mother carefully from a few feet away. While she may have taken after her own grandmother in many ways, learning to keep her head high and proud, the sharp pain of her mother’s loss was still fresh in her heart. She had been the one to find her  mam á a few weeks ago. She wasn’t entirely surprised, having been expecting the moment for many years now, but it still tore at her heart knowing that her mother was now gone, leaving a hollow hole that she doubted could be filled. Her eyes fitted to her father and sister for a brief moment before her eyes returned to her mother. Their losses took a toll on Elena  as well, but the years since they had left her had dulled the ache in a way her mother’s loss hadn’t had the chance to.

  


For the last many years, Elena had taken it upon herself to be the main provider for her mother. Caring for her wellbeing and making sure her remaining years of life were comfortable. It was strange, no longer having her mother to fret over, and even stranger to see her mother standing proud and tall with eyes holding more life in death than she had within her last moments. 

  


Realistically she understood that death had cured her mother’s ailments, she couldn’t bare to stomach the idea of her poor mother being tormented in death by the same clouded memory that had plagued her last years. She supposed she should be proud that her mother could now hold herself on her own, but a deep part of Elena felt useless. Her mother didn’t need her anymore.

  


As if she could hear her daughters dark thoughts, Coco’s eyes met Elena’s. Elena was not prepared for the clear recognition that flashed through her mother’s eyes, too used to the blank stares and glazed over expressions. Instead she received a sad warm smile as her eyes bore into Elena’s very soul. It reminded her of her youth when Elena was the one being cared for, not the other way around.

  


Like her mother before her, Socorro Rivera wasn’t one to idly sit by during an uncomfortable moment. Her last few years of life had been particularly hard for her, having to rely so heavily on her own daughter for care had broke her heart. She felt her phantom heart constrict as her daughter stood before her. While he face was cleverly masked, Socorro knew her daughter well, knowing the pain she hid behind the blank mask.

  


Slowly Coco made her way towards the living members of the room, taking time to rake her eyes over the living  _ They’ve grown so much _ she mused looking amongst her great grandchildren she hadn’t seen since her death. It hurt her to see them stiffen as she made their way close to them, but couldn’t fault them for it. It must be strange seeing her again, so soon after her passing.

  


Coco brought her fingers to her daughters, taking a moment to run her thumb soothingly across her daughter’s skin. She was still adjusting to life without it, but it felt nice to ground herself with some familiarity, despite the oddness of the circumstance. 

  


Wordlessly, she gave Elena’s hand a soft tug before leading them over to where her father and great grandson resided, still conversing animatedly to each other.

  


Numbly, Elena allowed herself to be lead by her mother towards the seating area, settling in right beside her. Her eyes then traveled to her grandson speaking to the skeleton a few feet away. She took in the scene with narrowed eyes. While a great many revelations had come to the family about her grandfather since Miguel’s adventure on Día de Muertos, Elena was still wary of the man. While Miguel seemed quite comfortable in his presence, this man still had abandoned the family.

  


Elena hadn’t been blind to her grandmother’s affections to the man. They seemed to be quite comfortable around each other, so Elena held her tongue when she watched him nod excitedly towards her grandson’s tale. She had looked up to her  Mamá Imelda for many years, respected her way of life and did her best to honor her memory by bringing up the household in a similar fashion. It was clear any animosity that her abuela had held for this man had passed, and she didn’t doubt there had been a good reason for that. But still, she couldn’t shake the dull resentment she still held for the man from her heart. He still had abandoned his family.

  


Coco’s trek across the threshold seemed to release everyone from their frozen spell. Slowly the family made their ways towards the seating area, each slowly claiming a space to sit. With the exception of Elena and Miguel, sat next to Coco and  Héctor respectively, both the living and the dead found themselves separating into two distinct groups, dead with dead and living next to living.

  


Again Enrique watched his son from his spot beside his wife. It still perturbed him how close he seemed to be with this Héctor, but knew asking would be pointless. Supposedly this movie would answer that for him. He felt a warm pressure against his left shoulder, and he startled before meeting his wife’s eyes. Lusia met her husband’s eyes with a hesitant smile, knowing the reason behind his tense nature. She brought her shoulder to his once more in a sign of comfort, her arms busy rocking their youngest to a content sleep. 

  


Rosa found herself picking at the fabric of the chair she had chose.

  


“So, uh, is this movie thing gonna start or…?” she asked openly towards the room.

  


Eyes quickly turned to her, and Rosa kicked her foot in discomfort at the attention, before everyone turned their attention towards the dark screen. Nothing happened.

  


Óscar tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyeing the screen, “Perhaps we have to turn it on ourselves?” he asked. He wasn’t quite familiar with newer technologies, and turned to his brother as if he had the answer. Felipe merely shrugged, just as lost as his twin.

  


Imelda let out a irritated huff beside  Héctor, crossing her arms once more. “This devil box better start soon, or I swea-” 

  


Imelda jumped slightly as the screen before her sprang to life. She sniffed out in annoyance as her husband’s shoulders started to quake with silent laughter beside her. Her withering glare stopped his shaking mirth, but did nothing to ebb the amused smile painting etching across his face. She turned her murderous glare towards Miguel when he let out a rather unflattering snort at her expense.

  


Miguel and Héctor shared a look, both clearly unaffected by Imelda’s wrath. Imelda let out another huff before turning her eyes to the screen before her.

  


Miguel practically started to vibrate in his seat, grinning up to Héctor, “This is gonna be so great!”

  


Héctor matched his enthusiasm with a small bounce as well, jostling Imelda slightly. Bringing her hand to the bridge of her nose, she rubbed the area in exasperation. These two were far too similar for their own good. She eyed the two warily but couldn’t fight the small burst of affection growing in her chest as she looked at them. She was reminded, not for the first time, of how young Héctor really was. It was refreshing to see his youth had not left him, despite his many years alone and nearly forgotten.

  


Imelda shook her head of the thoughts. Héctor had made it very clear that he held no resentment towards her for her actions, but the harsh pit of regret still plagued the Rivera matriarch. Her eyes turned once more to her husband, who was bouncing in sync with Miguel, matching grins stretched across her face. As annoyed as she was of this situation, she had to admit one thing, it was good to see these two together again. She did not quite understand what happened between the two before she had found them trapped in that cavern, but she knew a strong bond was formed, and it was satisfying to watch them get the chance to interact without the threat of curses or being forgotten weighing at their shoulders.

  


Her eyes caught movement from across the room, and saw her great grandson faced with a similar expression, watching the duo. Feeling her gaze on him, Enrique looked up and met Imelda’s eyes briefly. An understanding seemed to wash over them, neither of them truly understanding the depth of Héctor and Miguel’s bond. Imelda brought her head down in a slight nod of acknowledgment that Enrique mirrored back at her. It seemed she was not the only one left with some burning questions of that night. Perhaps this movie would help her to understand more as well.

  


Suddenly music filled the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow! I wasn't expecting such a positive response to this!! Honestly thought I was alone in this trope, but I'm glad I'm not!! I wasn't lying when I said I really wanted to focus on the family's reactions, I mean three chapters in and we still haven't started the movie. As much as I would like to dive right in, and get everyone watching, it's not that simple. Can't just turn up in an unexpected room to watch a movie and just go with it, well unless your Héctor or Miguel. Elena fascinates me, and I'm really looking forward to exploring her character. She so much like her grandmother it hurts! I really don't think she'd warm up to Héctor so easily, but at the same time, she also knows Imelda wouldn't have let him back into her life without a good reason.


	4. Never Meet Your Hero, Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may just turn out to be a fame-obsessed, music-stealing, great great grandfather-murdering weirdo.

Everyone watched curiously as a small grave came on scene. It wasn’t one the family was particularly familiar with, so a few brows furrowed in confusion, but the moment seemed to pass fairly quickly. As the camera panned, a soft strum of strings filled the room, and Héctor’s fingers twitched absentmindedly trying to match the cords by ear.

 

Miguel was a bit startled when his voice began narrating. There definitely was something odd about hearing your own voice speak to you. He briefly thought about when he and Héctor had performed together in the Plaza de la Cruz, it had been the first time he heard his own voice echo back from a microphone, but even that had been different.

 

“Interesting,” Victoria mused, adjusting her glasses as she leaned forward slightly, “They’re using  _ papel picado _ to visualize the story.”

 

“Oh, that’s really clever.” Rosita murmured from her left. She was, of course, very familiar with the story being told, but watching it unfold visually was quite breathtaking. 

 

Héctor visibly flinched when his silhouette walked through Imelda and Coco’s, almost as if they were invisible to him, only to embrace the adoring crowd. It had never been his intention to make them feel inferior to his music. He wouldn’t deny that he enjoyed the thrill of a performance, but his interests didn’t stray much farther than that. Ernesto had always been the one who revelled in the attention, seemingly never satisfied and always eager to surpass expectations. All Héctor wanted was to provide a stable foundation for his wife and daughter. Touring had provided a means for him to support his family, something every man prided himself with. He wasn’t very talented past his musical expertise, and he knew he had little else to offer to allow Imelda and Coco a comfortable life. When Imelda’s figure slammed the door, his breath hitched.

 

“Imelda…” he breathed, rousing his wife from her own inner turmoil. 

 

Watching Héctor leave again, even on colorful bits of paper, was like rubbing salt on an old wound. She remembered the righteous fury that had settled deep within her that day, as well as the seed of resentment that, try as she may, still lingered in her fractured heart. Though it pained her to admit, part of her afraid to turn to her husband. She knew now that her anger towards Héctor had caused him pain and suffering, nearly sentencing him to a final death for her self-preservation. She wasn’t sure if she could stomach seeing his face reflect the hurt she had caused him, but Imelda wasn’t one to shy away, even from herself. With a firm resolve, she turned to him, but was faced with something unexpected..

 

“You…” he wasn’t facing her, instead his eyes were glued towards the scene before him, watching as Imelda’s counterpart rid the home of any source of music. He didn’t seem saddened or dejected by her actions before him, but instead, genuine awe and admiration painted his face “You were amazing.” Imelda blinked.

 

That….wasn’t particularly what she had been expecting from him. Imelda felt her brow furrow in confusion. She watched Héctor blink owlishly, before meeting her gaze.

 

“I’m serious Imelda.” his voice was soft, not trying to disrupt the others from the movie, but firm. “You were amazing.” Why was he looking at her like that?

 

Imelda’s mouth opened to dismiss his comment, but his attentioned was pulled back towards the screen.

 

“Look at you…” his voice was caked with emotion, “Y-You made a home for her..” 

 

_ Why wasn’t he angry _ ? 

 

Héctor turned his head sharply, his face incredulous, “Why on earth would I be angry?”

 

Imelda was startled by his sudden change in demenur. It took her a moment to realize she had voiced her thoughts out loud.

 

“Imelda,” Héctor frowned, “You made a life for yourself and our daughter. Y-you taught yourself how to make shoes!” His arms gestured wildly towards the screen.

 

Imelda felt her shoulders tense defensively. “Of course I did.” she responded, perplexed. “I had to.”

 

Héctor let out a slightly hysterical laugh, “Exactly.”

 

Imelda studied her husband silently. His firm expression didn’t falter, and she couldn’t fight the small smile that crept across her face in return. Héctor made it very clear just how easily he forgave Imelda for cutting him out of everyone’s lives. Sometimes she wished he wouldn’t be so forgiving. It would make things easier, she supposed, being as angry and hurt as she was. It certainly would help ease some of the guilt she harbored, but it appeared that her husband was equally as stubborn as she was in certain things. Still, it felt nice to be acknowledged for all the hard work she did in his absence. 

 

Coco’s expression morphed into a grimace as her past self mistook Miguel for her husband Julio. Her dementia had stolen a lot from her in her final years, her memories, awareness, focus, and most importantly, valuable time spent with her family. In death she was granted relief from her deteriorating memory, but it came at a cost. She could now remember and recall her last few years clearly, as well as her inability to participate. It still hurt her that she had spent her last years with her family within a shell of herself. 

 

A chuckle rumbled in her throat as a flurry of scenes between herself and the Miguel flashed before them. While she hadn’t been mentally present during those specific times, it was a comfort to see that her great grandson still found time to confide in her despite the mental handicap she harbored. Coco reached her hand over towards the real Miguel, giving his head an affectionate pat. She certainly hadn’t been able to reciprocate the affections he gave her when she was alive, but she was glad to be able to do so now in death. Miguel responded to her gentle touch with a one dimpled grin.

 

Elena’s tongue clicked in irritation when Miguel’s figure strolled towards the plaza, creating a beat with his fingertips. It was clear that Miguel’s infatuation with music wasn’t going to dissipate anytime soon, especially after the moment he shared with  Mam á Coco that fateful morning. It had been an emotional one, and even Elena could not dismiss the importance music held for both her mother and grandson. It had been one of the first and last times her mother had been lucid around the family. The song Miguel had played had somehow roused the mother she knew and loved from the empty shell she had become, and Elena would forever be indebted to Miguel for it. However, it did not stop Elena’s frustrations towards her grandson.

 

Music had hurt her family in more ways than it had helped. When she was young, her mother had injured herself from dancing. The incident itself had been quite traumatizing for the young girl at the time, seeing as it had been the first time Elena had realized how vulnerable and human her mother was, something a child never wanted to see of their parent. She also remembered the quiet nights she had crept out of bed and found her grandmother sitting alone in the workshop, head in her hands and slumped forward, taking a private moment to let the weight she carried on her shoulders take over her.

 

Yes, one song had brought her mother back to her for a few moments, but that didn’t suddenly erase all the pain and hurt her family had suffered from. Miguel’s casual disregard of the music ban had always hurt Elena. Like any grandmother, all she wanted for her grandson was to be happy, but music had come at much too high a cost. Why couldn’t Miguel see that?

 

Miguel’s strangled groan broke the silence in the room. He let his body slide down the couch and hid his face behind his hands in mortification as he watched himself make his way to the plaza. He remembered where he had gone to that day, where he had gone to most every day he went to the plaza.

 

Everyone’s eyes shifted to the boy as he let out another sound. 

 

“What’s the matter, chamaco?”  Héctor asked, peering down at Miguel’s sinking form.

 

It wasn’t the Miguel next to him that answered Héctor’s question. Héctor turned his gaze back towards the film as his great great grandson’s voice introduced Ernesto.  _ Oh _ .

 

“Wait.” Rosa scoffed from her side of the room, eyes squinting towards the statue, “Isn’t that the guy you were shouting about on the roof?”

 

“The  _ what _ ?” Imelda cried aghast.

 

The only answer Miguel gave them was a small humiliated keen.

 

Abel let out a loud snort, “Yeah that’s the guy he totally obsessed over.”

 

Héctor fidgeted in his seat, slightly conflicted. His own feelings towards Ernesto were…. _complicated_ at best. Watching him, even as a statue, stirred some odd emotions from the skeleton that he didn’t particularly want to delve into at the moment. He turned his gaze towards the young boy beside him instead. It was clear that Miguel was a bit… embarrassed with how his movie self referred to Ernesto. Héctor hadn’t been blind to the blatant hero worship Miguel harbored over Ernesto when he first met the boy, and despite the bitter twinge that lurched in his phantom gut, he found a laugh forming in his throat. (It was easier to laugh than reminisce about his old friend and murderer……)

 

Miguel uncovered his face to throw a betrayed look up towards Héctor, as the skeleton snorted in response to the wistful expression on film Miguel’s face.

 

“Sorry.” Héctor guffawed unconvincingly.

 

Miguel pursed his lips into a pout, before sticking out his tongue in retaliation. It was super embarrassing watching himself fanboy over a guy who tried to murder him!

 

Enrique and Luisa shared a confused look, eyeing their son’s reaction. It was clear that the Miguel on screen held a certain fondness towards de la Cruz, but the Miguel in the room with them seemed to be embarrassed by it. It was clear something had happened for their son’s feelings to change so drastically over the musician in such a short amount of time.

 

“You can  _ literally _ see the strings, Miguel.” Rosa’s scoff caused Miguel to bury his face into Héctor’s hip bone with a whine.

 

“ _ Shut up _ , Rosa.” 

 

Coco startled slightly when Miguel’s voice over announced his favorite song. She narrowed her eyes in confusion,  _ But that’s Papá’s song…. _

 

The Rivera's, living and dead, watched as the scene morphed into a colorful spectacle of grandeur. Héctor found his eyes rolling towards the ceiling as fireworks went off.  _ Of course he would _ . For a good majority of the rest of the room, however, this was the first time they witnessed something so extravagant, and found themselves a bit in awe of the display. The colorful lights and costumes were quite mesmerizing for certain. Some were reluctant to admit that Miguel may have a point with this music stuff. It certainly was entertaining.

 

Héctor let out an agitated huff as he watched his old partner bastardize his lullaby, 

 

“..... _ idiota _ …what part of  _ tenderly _ …. not understand….” His grumbles went mostly unheard, except for Miguel who turned to look up at his Papá Héctor and repaid his earlier mockery with a snort. 

 

Carmen let out a sharp cry when the giant bell landed on top of Ernesto, scrambling quickly to cover the twins' eyes before they saw too much. 

 

“Well…” Victoria drawled, one of the few left unimpressed by the entire affair, “That’s ironic.”

 

Amusement passed through those who were present at the Spectacular on Día de Muertos. The rest of the occupants in the room were a bit confused by the offhand comment, not quite knowing that this wouldn’t be the last time Ernesto would be flattened by a bell.

 

A beat of silence filled the room suddenly, eyes turning once more to Miguel.

 

“You know you just said you wanted to be crushed by a giant bell, right?”

 

Miguel covered his face, once more, and let out a muffled groan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I'm sorry that it took so long for me to update! I rewrote this one chapter like seven times, guys. Seven times.
> 
> I know this isn't the typical format that "watching the movies" fics have. Like I said I wanted to avoid the copy and paste style and really focus in on the reactions. I want it to flow a bit more organically, like the characters are actually watching the movie, rather than writing a phrase or two between lines. When they talk they may miss things, and it's unrealistic for everyone to react to every single moment. I hope that translates well..? 
> 
> I do want your feedback, though. I want to know what works and what doesn't. Im also taking time to try and revise some mistakes I catch when I browse through my chapters. This is quite obviously un beta'ed and I appreciate all the patience.
> 
> Thank you again for all your support and kudos!! I'm so excited that all of you seem to be enjoying this!


	5. Family Matters....And So Does Your Wording

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel pls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the feedback I received from the last chapter, I'm attempting to describe what's happening in the movie a bit more without loosing the flow of the format I chose. To hopefully avoid some confusion, I'm will be italicizing the names of the characters when describing scene in the movie to avoid being confused with their counterparts in the room.

The laughter at Miguel’s expense started to settle down as the scene progressed, but the burning sensation in his cheeks stayed present. After his, let’s say, _adventure_ on Día de Muertos, Miguel found himself resenting his former idol. It wasn’t exactly surprising, since Ernesto de la Cruz turned out to be a terrible man who kinda tried to, well, _kill him_ , but it didn’t stop embarrassment from washing over Miguel. It was one thing to have to be reminded of just how wrong he had been over Ernesto, but having his Papá Héctor see how much Miguel used to glorify the man who ruined his life made Miguel feel beyond mortified.

 

Fingers found the top of his head and began to brush a soothing pattern into his hair. Miguel found himself peeking through his fingers and followed the arm back towards his great great grandfather next to him. Héctor’s eyes were dutifully trained towards the _Miguel_ on the screen, who was now racing through the graveyard towards Ernesto’s mausoleum with great fervor. In contrast to the young boy next to him, Héctor’s posture seemed relaxed and at ease, despite the subject matter of the film before them. The skeleton’s fingers continued their trek through the young boy’s hair, and Miguel found himself relaxing towards the touch, bringing his hands down to watch Héctor more fully.

  
While the living Rivera’s in the room most likely thought that Miguel’s embarrassment stemmed from the quick jabs they seemed to make at his expense, Héctor had an inkling as to what was really causing the boy’s distress. He quietly brought his gaze towards the slumped figure beside him with a soft smile and wink, trying desperately to communicate his understanding without causing any more attention to be placed on Miguel.

 

His efforts were rewarded with a small twitch of a smile and a quiet shuffling as Miguel righted his position. If Miguel was leaning a bit more heavily onto his left side than he had been when the movie first started, Héctor didn’t say anything.

 

_‘If it wasn’t for my family.’_

 

An irritated click of the tongue came from Elena as the scene brought them to the Plaza. The older woman remembered this day clearly, and her irritation towards the mariachi didn’t wane as he showed his clear disinterest towards her grandson and his story. Her eyes narrowed and she found herself pursing her lips at _Miguel’s_ casual dismissal of the family. Did that boy know nothing? Why would he confide to a complete stranger about his problems, when his family was right there? A pain blossomed deep within her chest as her eyes drifted to the Miguel present in the room with them, her brow furrowing. Did he really think they cared so little of him?

 

When Elena watched the elation that washed over _Miguel’s_ face as he was handed the guitar replaced by pure horror at the sound of her voice, her question was answered.

 

Abel guffawed as their abuelita rounded on the unsuspecting musician.

 

“La chancla.” he whispered ominously, wiggling his fingers towards his younger brothers on their parent’s laps, causing them to giggle. The glare Elena sent his way quieted the 19 year old suddenly. It was only funny when her wrath was focussed on someone else.

 

Elena returned her focus towards the movie, watching herself fawn over he other grandson. Perhaps seeing her actions on the screen would help Miguel realize that he had been wrong about how the family thought of him. They did care, despite what the boy thought.

 

Luisa felt an uncomfortable lurch in her stomach as the shop came on screen. Having a bit of a better understanding of how her son felt gave her memory of this moment a new perspective. At the time she really hadn’t known that much of her son’s fondness to music, so knowing now explained his adamance of being able to visit the plaza and his need to be able to perform in the talent show. It was his only chance to play music. The thought hurt her, but sadly didn’t surprise her. She hadn’t been raised with the no music rule all her life, but had been married into it. She wished Miguel could have come to her with his troubles, instead. Watching the past with her newfound knowledge only made her wish she could relive it instead to save her son from some  of the pain he had seemed to felt.

 

Miguel found himself being jerked slightly as Héctor leaned forward slightly when _Elena_ pulled _Miguel_ towards the ofrenda room. It hit Miguel, then, that this would be the first time Héctor would be seeing the ofrenda.

 

Héctor seemed to inch forward on his seat as he drank in the ofrenda, not quite hearing what _Elena_ was saying. His eyes tried to soak up as much as he could, despite the panning camera shifting the scenes focus. He subconsciously registers some unfamiliar faces, tucking them away for later to question Imelda on (he was very adamant on learning of all the family he had missed out on) once they returned home.

 

Héctor sucked in a sharp breath when _Elena_ brought the movie’s attention to his missing photo. This hadn’t been the first time he saw the ripped photo, but that didn’t stop the dull ache in his chest from spreading through his core.

 

Everyone jumped as _Elena_ slammed her fist on the ofrenda furiously.

 

‘ _Never mention that man! He’s better off forgotten!’_

 

Miguel and the dead present stiffened almost comidically at _Elena’s_ outburst. Even the living could sense the tense atmosphere that seemed to soak through the room, eyes turning towards the man in question. An uncomfortable look was shared between the dead as Miguel and Héctor’s eyes glazed over, seemingly lost in thought.

 

It was _Coco’s_ voice that brought everyone’s attention, albeit awkwardly, once again towards the movie.

 

_‘Papa?’_

 

Héctor’s eyes refocused at the sound of his daughter’s distress.

 

_‘Papa is home?’_

 

Coco tore her gaze away from the movie towards her father’s agonized expression. She knew now, just how her father had been trying desperately to return home to her. She only wished she had known sooner to have put his photo up for him. If only.

 

_‘Who are you?’_

 

Coco’s winced harshly. Her papá wasn’t the only one who was hurt it seemed. Shifting her gaze towards her living daughter, she brought her thumb to the base of Elena’s spine, pressing comforting circles into her daughters back. While she wasn’t entirely sure if the action was conscious or not on her daughter part, she was pleased to see Elena relaxing into her touch.

 

The second youngest of the Rivera’s perked up when _Dante_ returned on screen, unaffected by the uncomfortable silence that fitted the room.

 

“Puppy! Puppy is back!” one said pointing while his twin giggled.

 

“Shh, quiet mijos.” Carmen said, hushing her boys softly. “Let the movie play.”

 

The young boys frowned at their mother and slid onto the floor silently, chastised.

 

Héctor shook the unpleasant feelings and thoughts from his head, instead trying to focus once more on the movie. He watched as _Miguel_ tried to hide something in the shadows protectively, until realizing it was just _Dante._ Héctor tilted his head curiously at what had enraptured _Miguel’s_ attention so resolutely.

 

It was his guitar. Miguel made _his guitar_.

 

“Miguel…”  Héctor started, blinking rapidly, “Did you make that yourself?”

 

It was clear that the only reason Miguel had made the guitar was because of his fascination with Ernesto (since that _idiota_ stole it from his cold dying hands!!) but Héctor couldn’t help the slight tug of fondness that erupted within him when he saw his great great grandson holding the likeness of his own guitar.

 

Miguel was seemingly startled by the question. He had been so busy gearing himself for more embarrassment when the movie would show his Ernesto shrine, he had almost forgotten that Ernesto’s guitar had actually been Héctor’s first.

 

“S-si.” Miguel stuttered, turning to the skeleton beside him. He bit his lip hesitantly, suddenly bashful at his old creation, “D-do you like it?”

 

Héctor let out a sharp laugh, startling the other occupants in the room, “Like it? I love it!”

 

Héctor gestured wildly towards _Miguel_ as he held up his creation, “It looks just like my guitar!! You did amazing!”

 

Miguel seemed to perk up at Héctor’s praise.

 

Rosa scrunched her nose in confusion, “Wait...that’s _your_ guitar?” she asked raising her brow. Her eyes flicked back towards the screen briefly, taking in Ernesto’s form, before turning to Héctor questioningly, “Why does _he_ have it then?”

 

Héctor startled and brought his attention to the living girl, clearly not expecting someone living, besides Miguel, to acknowledge him directly.

 

“Uh…” Héctor scratched his jaw uncomfortably, “It’s...it’s a bit complicated.” he concluded weakly with an uncomfortable smile and shrug.

 

Rosa pursed her lips, but ultimately returned her attention to the film.

 

A calm hush settled across the occupants in the room as _Miguel_ began to play. While Héctor and those present in Mamá Coco’s room that day had gotten the chance, for a good number in the room, this was the first time they heard the boy play.

Héctor turned once more to Miguel, “You taught yourself through tapes?”

 

Miguel felt a blush warm his cheeks, “Si.”

 

“Is that hard?” Enrique found himself asking, turning to Héctor, a bit out of his depth when it came to music.

 

“Si.” Héctor smiled, leaning down to bump into Miguel’s shoulder affectionately, “Eso es increíble, chamaco.”

 

Everyone watched a _Miguel_ continued the melody, seeming to soothe some of the previous tensions that still remained in the room. Even Ernesto’s commentary couldn’t bring the mood down. They watched as the boy on screen eyed the flyer he had brought with him from the plaza, before turning to _Dante_ excitedly.

 

_‘I’m going to play in Mariachi Plaza, if it kills me!”_

 

Imelda groaned and the remaining dead’s expressions morphed into a mixture of amusement and dread.

 

“Miguel…..” Victoria drawled, pinching the bridge of where her nose used to be. “You need to work on your wording.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Thank you for being so patient when it comes to updates. Work has been having me at six days for the last three weeks and finding time to write and update has been a bit hard, but I have not abandoned this work, I promise!!
> 
> Like I said earlier and in some of my replies, I really tried to incorporate more descriptions on what's happening in the film to counter the character's reactions, without overshadowing them. I hope this is a good compromise between the two, if not, let me know. Please don't be afraid to speak your minds, I appreciate all the feedback I can get. While I can't necessarily change everything, I will take everything into account when writing.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for the 'Watching the Movie/Reading the Books' Trope, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. However I'm trying to avoid the usual copy-paste script format, and trying to focus more on the family and their reactions to what happens in the film. I really think Coco is a good film to do that for, with everything that happens. Open to criticism. It's been about a decade since I last wrote so any advice would be appreciated!


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